The Sounds of Summer

The neighbors behind me lost another mailbox last night. I don't know who they've pissed off, but since I don't like them very much, I find it funny. I guess for those of you who live in the city, I should explain: mailbox smashing is a time-honored drunken teenager tradition around here. You get a carload of your friends, a couple cases of beer, and a baseball bat. You consume the beer, then hang out the window with the bat, and whack the crap out of mailboxes (they're those large, rounded ones along the road). This is especially funny if you know the person whose box you are destroying. *It should be noted that destruction of a mailbox is a federal crime; therefore, I NEVER participated in it when I was a teen ;-)*. I heard the crash and the squealing tires around 4:00 this morning. I could have looked to see if I recognized the car, but I chose to go back to sleep instead. If I liked them more, I'd tell them how my dad solved the problem, but since I don't, I'll share it with you.

Dad is a vengeful asshole. He will never forget an insult, and losing three mailboxes in one summer was too much for him. So, he took cement in small amounts and gradually coated the entire inside of a mailbox. This has to be done in stages to keep it from buckling the aluminum of the mailbox- it took about a week and a half. Once he had finished that, he then used a tube form to pour a cement post, and painted it brown to look like wood. Finally, he took the insanely heavy post and box, and joined them with, you guessed it, cement! He was forced to use the backhoe to lift the entire thing and move it to the end of their lane, and set it in the ground. Then he waited. He can be surprisingly patient when it comes to exacting his revenge. However, one night, it paid off in spades for him. He and Mom were awakened to a horrible scream and the sound of a car screeching to a halt. Looking out the window, they saw a car stopped just past their lane, with someone laying on the ground, screaming. They called an ambulance and the police. It seems that our drunken teenage friends were out for a night of mailbox smashing and chose Dad's. The kid must've been pretty strong, because one smack with the bat cracked the bat, and broke both of his arms! He fell out of the car window and laid in a puddle of his own tears until the ambulance arrived. Due to his extreme drunkenness, they were unable to give him anything for the pain. His parents threatened to sue my Dad until the cop reminded them that their son was an idiot. Dad's neighbors are all pleased, as it has cut down on mailbox smashing in the entire area. Oh, and the kid? It's been almost ten years, and people still refer to him as "the dumbass" who tried to smash D's mailbox. Aren't small towns great?